


Stranger than your Sympathy

by happylikeafool



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Celebrity AU, Day 1, F/F, Swan Queen Week Winter 2017, Violence, not described graphically but the violence that occurs is severe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-29
Updated: 2017-01-29
Packaged: 2018-09-20 17:10:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,919
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9501800
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/happylikeafool/pseuds/happylikeafool
Summary: It's the lead story on every news station - Henry Mills disappearing from a set on location in some tiny Maine town where his famous actress mother, Regina Mills, is filming her latest television show.Or, a Celebrity AU, in which, the media's involvement in Henry's quest to find his birth mother, ends up having severe consequences for Emma.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I just want to warn that this fic contains a violent act and its aftermath. The violence isn't graphically described but the act itself is pretty severe.

It's the lead story on every news station. 

 

_ Henry Mills disappearing from a set on location in some tiny Maine town where his famous actress mother, Regina Mills, is filming her latest television show.  _

 

Slurping noodles from a bowl of Ramen, Emma studies the serious brown eyes and shaggy brown hair of the boy whose picture they keep flashing on the screen. The announcer is throwing out all kinds of wild speculations on what's happened to Henry, each of them more horrific than the next, and Emma shakes her head in disgust at this display of sensationalist news casting.  _ How is this helping to find the boy? _

 

Her doorbell rings and she stands, bowl of Ramen in one hand, eyes still on the TV until the last possible moment when she turns to face the door, pulls it open, and does a double take.

 

Somehow the boy with the serious brown eyes and the shaggy brown hair has transported from the television and is standing in her hallway looking up at her with eager eyes and just a hint of nervousness. He seems perfectly healthy and perfectly whole and the news is definitely off base with its wild speculations, even if Emma has no clue what is going on.

 

“Are you Emma Swan?” He rocks on the balls of his feet. 

 

Emma just stares confused until eventually he eyes her expectantly and she nods dumbly, “Yeah, I’m Emma Swan.”  

 

“I’m Henry, I'm your son,” the boy chirps back immediately, flashing her a smile. 

 

_ Well, shit.  _ The people on the news were way  _ way  _ off base. 

 

xxxxxx

 

She lets him in because  _ what else is she supposed to do _ ? 

 

And he just keeps talking and talking and talking and he helps himself to orange juice and she can’t make her brain work properly. Can’t get past the part where the baby she had refused to look at in a prison hospital ten years ago is now standing in her kitchen.  _ How could this be happening? _

 

She wants to the call the police. She even picks up the phone to do so but he stops her with a, “Please don’t.” 

 

“Your face is all over the news, kid,” she insists, pointing to her television screen for emphasis. 

 

Henry just shrugs, as if this is no big deal, even if it’s clearly a  _ really  _ big deal. 

 

“I’ll tell them you kidnapped me,” he insists when she doesn’t put down the phone.

 

She  freezes, shaking her head. She knows they’ll believe him at least at first. At least until they can prove that she didn’t.  

 

She sighs, puts the phone down and agrees instead to drive him back to the tiny middle of nowhere town in Maine he’s come from, because apparently that’s all he wants.

 

xxxxxx

 

“Why did you run away?” It’s halfway through the drive when she finally gathers the courage to ask the question that's been on her mind. She’s imagined ten different horrific reasons why by this point, making her really no better than those news casters from the television, but she can’t seem to help it. It scares her to think that the baby boy she’d given away to give his best chance, maybe hadn’t gotten it.   

 

Henry shrugs, “I didn’t run away.”

 

Emma quirks an eyebrow at him.

 

“I didn’t,” he insists, and when her expression doesn’t change, he adds indignantly, “I came to to find you. That’s all.”

 

Emma thinks he’s really just splitting hairs but she says nothing a long moment, eyeing him like he’s a puzzle she has any hope of solving, which she clearly does not. People aren’t her forte. They never have been. “ _ Why _ ?” she finally asks because, of course, she can’t figure it out.

 

He shrugs, looking away and out the window, quiet all of sudden.

 

“Kid?” She’s hesitant, uncertain, but she pushes forward, “Is...is your mother  _ good  _ to you?”

 

His head snaps so quickly from the window and back over to her that she thinks he’s going to give himself whiplash. There’s a flash of anger in his eyes as they narrow in her direction, “She  _ isn’t  _ the Evil Queen.”

 

“Huh?” Emma isn’t following him.

 

The anger in his eyes is replaced by confusion matching her own, “The Evil Queen is just a stupid nickname the media gave her. Isn’t that what you were asking about?”

 

“Oh,” is all Emma can think to say at first, “I didn’t...I didn’t know that. I mean...that’s not why I…” She’s horrible at this but Henry is just keeps staring at her, so she just keeps rambling, “I’m just...I’m trying to understand what made you come look for me without telling your mother where you were going.”     

 

His brow crinkles, “I just wanted to meet you. She wouldn’t let me...she didn’t even tell me I was adopted.” There’s anger on his face again now, although this time it doesn’t seem to be directed at Emma.

 

“Oh,” it’s the only thing she can think to say again. 

 

xxxxxx

 

It takes them an hour and a half to make it to the tiny middle of nowhere town in Maine. The place is swarming with activity. Reporter, after reporter, after reporter, barricaded off from the street Henry says his house is on by police cars with flashing red and blue lights. She approaches the barricade and rolls down her window, motions with her hand to Henry in the front seat and forces herself to remain unmoving as the police officer’s hand drops to the service revolver at his hips.

 

She half expects to be dragged out of the car, cuffed and taken to a police station without so much as a question, but Henry chirps, “Hi,” happily at the officer, “Emma is bringing me home,” and the officer’s hand relaxes, waving them through, as he pulls his radio out to presumably call ahead. 

 

Emma pulls up in front of the large white house Henry says is his and follows a few steps behind him up towards the front door. 

 

The door swings open before they’ve even begun the ascent up the front steps, a woman with dark hair rushing out, pushing past two police officers, to crush Henry into a hug, folding him in towards her chest, closing her eyes and breathing in deep, as if she’s inhaling his scent. She pulls back, her hands on his shoulders now, crouching in front of him as her eyes sweeping him up and down and up and down, “Henry? Are you okay? Where have you been?”

 

He squirms under her scrutinizing gaze and glances over his shoulder at Emma. There’s stubborn indignation on his face when he looks back at his mother, defiance dripping from his words, “I went to find my birth mom.”

 

Regina’s eyebrows quirk high up towards her hairline and her gaze slips from Henry over to Emma.

 

“Hi,” Emma shifts uncomfortably and gives an awkward half wave.

 

Regina’s lips purse, her face pinching into a pained expression, and then the expression is gone, her eyes back on Henry, “Do you know how  _ dangerous _ that was?”

 

“ _ Mom,” _ Henry groans, rolling his eyes.

 

“Don’t you  _ mom _ me Henry Daniel Mills,” Regina shakes her head at him as she straightens and points towards the house, “Inside now.”

 

Henry looks angry now, and he crosses his arms, “I knew you wouldn’t understand.”

 

“ _ Now,”  _ Regina insists again and he stomps passed her up the stairs and into the house. Regina watches him go, stoic and unmoving for a long moment and then her head turns to look back at Emma, “Come inside.” 

 

It’s not a request or an offer so much as it is a demand and Emma can do nothing but follow the woman into the house.

 

xxxxxx

 

Someone, a large burly looking guy, guides Emma into a sitting room and offers her a drink, while Regina disappears up a large winding staircase to check on Henry.

 

Emma has gulped an entire tumbler of whatever the burning liquor is by the time Regina reappears. She practically glides into the room, studying Emma with the kind of scrutiny that makes Emma want to disappear into the ground.

 

“I’m sorry about Henry dragging you out of your life, Miss Swan. I don’t know what’s gotten into him,” Regina’s voice is even, her eyes still watching Emma carefully.

 

“It-it’s okay. He was just...curious. I get it,” Emma blinks slowly, her heart hammering uncomfortably in her chest. 

 

“ _ Do  _ you?” Regina quirks an eyebrow at Emma.

 

Emma fidgets uncomfortably in her seat and says nothing.

 

“When I adopted Henry he was three weeks old and I was told his birth mother didn’t want any contact with him. It was a closed adoption.”

 

“That was true,” Emma swallows thickly, “It  _ is  _ true,” she clarifies when Regina’s lips purse together.

 

“Good,” Regina nods after a long moment of silence and then she pulls something out of her pocket, a folded square of paper, and she holds it out for Emma to take.      

 

Emma’s finger shake as she reaches for it, realizing only as she unfolds it that it’s a cheque. It has her name on it and an impossibly large number scrawled in neat writing. She blinks up at Regina in confusion, “I-I…”

 

“Is that not enough?” Regina’s posture is rigid, her words terse.

 

Emma frowns as she clutches the cheque a little tighter. “I think it’s time for me to leave,” she pushes herself up and off of the couch and moves forward on halting legs, stopping in front of Regina. She shoves the cheque at the actress, forcing it into her hands, “What kind of awful person do you think I am? You don’t need to pay me to stay away. Keep your money.”

 

She doesn’t look back as she walks out of the house, climbs into her yellow bug, and heads back for Boston. 

 

xxxxxx

 

It’s late when Emma gets back to her apartment but there’s no hope that she’ll sleep anytime soon. Instead she pulls out of her laptop and Google’s Regina Mills. She's seen some of the actresse’s films but knows very little about  _ her _ .

 

The first thing that comes up is a grainy picture taking only hours ago of Regina crouched in front of Henry with Emma standing off to the side, the article headline is  _ Wayward Son Returned Unharmed _ and Emma frowns, wonders who had even taken that picture. 

 

She doesn’t bother reading that article, moving on instead to page after page after page of information on Regina Mills. It’s like disappearing down a rabbit hole. 

 

The media certainly seems intent on painting Regina as an impossibly difficult Hollywood actress -  _ the Evil Queen _ as Henry had said - but it’s impossible to tell the truth from the lies and by hour three Emma isn’t sure what to believe.

 

At first glance, the facts seem straightforward. The daughter of a Hollywood producer and a director becomes a successful child star, grows up and graduates to successful adult actress. A spoiled child used to getting what she wants who grows up to be the spoiled diva that everyone expects her to be. There's weird bits in there that don't make much sense though. An almost marriage to a stable boy, a lengthy disappearance from the public eye ended with a picture of Regina holding an infant at her father's funeral, and a slew of articles describing charitable contributions and volunteer work that just don’t jive with the Evil Queen persona themedia describes. 

 

When Emma finally drifts off to sleep, laptop still open and glowing in her lap, she's just as confused about Regina Mills as when she started. 

 

xxxxxx

 

In the time she's asleep, Emma’s world changes - this becomes apparent when she steps out of her apartment and is greeted by the flashing of camera lights and a mob of people shouting questions at her about Henry.

 

She doesn't say a single word to any of them but that doesn't stop her face from making the cover of a dozen tabloids, her face most often spliced beside a photo of Regina and the picture of Henry they'd been flashing all over the news. 

 

They get a lot of things wrong -  _ no _ , she most definitely isn't trying to regain custody of Henry. But they get a lot of things right too - the abandonment on the side of a road as an infant, her unadoptable foster child years, the stint in jail.

 

It gets to where she can't go anywhere without someone pointing at her or some stray paparazzo  _ still _ trying to get her to comment. It's not at all conducive to a career as a bail bonds person where observing without being seen is a critical skill.

 

By week two she's had enough. She sublets her apartment and packs whatever she can into her bug. She has no clue where she's going, just knows that she needs to disappear for awhile. Needs to get away from all these people who suddenly know who she is and want things from her, making it absolutely impossible for her to forget the brown eyes and smile of a boy standing in her doorway telling her he's her son. And she needs to forget. Oh how she needs to forget  _ that _ . Because she’s never wanted to know someone more and he’s the one person in this world that she  _ can’t  _ know. 

 

She's loading the last of her stuff into the backseat of the bug, parked out of sight in the alley behind her apartment building, when she hears the shuffling of feet behind her. She spins, expecting yet another reporter wanting a comment from her, and instead finds a tall man with piercing blue eyes, cold and harsh, staring at her. 

 

“You're her,” the man says, his voice low. 

 

Emma's freezes, eyes him uncertainly. “I’m sorry sir, I don't think we know each other.” She feels dread settle in her belly, her fight or flight instincts on high alert, as he takes a step forward.

 

“You're the girl,” he insists, taking another step forward toward her, “the one in all the magazines. You're trying to hurt  _ my _ Regina. Trying to take away her little boy. But I won't let you. I'm going to stop you and my Regina is going to be so pleased with me.”

 

_ Oh fuck. He’s crazy.  _ Emma swallows thickly, looks behind her as if an escape route might just materialize in the dead end alley, and then looks back at the man with the terrifying blue eyes. The only way out of this alley is forward, through the lunatic in front of her. Her heart hammers loudly in her chest. “You're wrong,” there’s a tremor in her voice that she can’t contain.  

 

“Don't lie to me!” The man is angry now and he takes another step forward, a hand raising from behind his back, brandishing a knife that has escaped Emma’s notice up until this point.

 

_ Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck. _ It’s now or never and Emma surges forward, reaching up to slam the heel of her hand into the man’s nose, her knee aiming lower at the same time. 

 

For one second she thinks she’s made it by him, thinks she is going to escape this alley, and then his hands are on her, clawing her backwards, back into the alley, and the cool metal of the blade is slicing through the air towards her.

 

The next part is just flashes, adrenaline and pain and shock clouding everything, her brain only recording bits and pieces, colours and sounds with no particular order or logic. 

 

There’s screaming. She’s not sure if the sound is coming from her or the passerby who discovers them.

 

There are sirens loud and blaring and lights that flash so brightly that she thinks they’ll blind her.

 

There’s people, so many people, pressing their hands against her, murmuring to her words she can’t comprehend, lifting her onto something hard. 

 

She’s in a vehicle and they’re moving so fast, so very very fast.

 

And she’s cold, so so cold. And tired, so so tired.  

 

And then her eyes are closed.

 

xxxxxx      

 

She wakes confused, struggles to move and can’t quite figure out why her limbs won’t obey her instructions.

 

“Don’t move,” a voice that sounds oddly familiar but that she can’t quite place instructs her, “I’ll get a nurse.” 

 

There’s shuffling of feet and she’s still struggling to figure out what’s going on, panic bubbling up in her chest, her heart rate increasing, her eyes darting side to side.

 

“Hey, hey,” the voice is back and whomever it belongs to is leaning over her, dark hair and dark eyes and features contorted into concern sliding into focus in her line of sight, “Stop. It's okay, you're okay. You're safe.”

 

Emma opens her mouth to speak, to ask what is happening, but all that comes out is garbled nonsense.

 

Someone else is there now too, on her other side, talking to her. “I'm going to give you something that's going to help Emma. Just relax, you're okay.”

 

_ What _ ? Emma tries to say it but the word doesn't come out.  _ Why won't anyone tell her what's happening? _

 

“Sleep, Emma,” the voice, the first one belonging to the beautiful woman with the brown hair, instructs. The words are impossibly soft and fingers are brushing gently against the back of Emma's hand. 

 

Emma stills, her eyes focusing on the woman even as they slide closed for longer and longer periods of time. She finally places the woman as unconsciousness claims her.  _ Regina Mills _ . 

 

xxxxxx

 

When she wakes up a second time, she’s alone, and much less panicked. 

 

She blinks slowly and tries to clear the fog from her brain. Tries to remember how she got here.  _ Here _ she decides after some time must be a hospital. 

 

A nurse comes in to check on her.

 

“W-what happened?” Emma stammers out, her voice shaky, her throat dry. There's pain hot and sharp across her abdomen when she tries to move and the nurse puts a hand on her shoulder to stop her. 

 

The nurse eyes her carefully, “Do you remember anything?”

 

Emma's brow furrows. Things come back slowly, the alley, the man with the terrifying blue eyes, and the strange dream that Regina Mills had been at her bed side. 

 

“I'll have the doctor come talk to you,” the nurse decides when Emma says nothing.

 

The doctor is a short man with glasses and red hair and kind eyes. He checks Emma's vitals before he explains the damage. Six stab wounds in total, one unsalvageable spleen, and a significant amount of other internal damage. She's already been here for over thirty six hours, apparently. She’ll need to stay in the ICU for at least another day or two and then they'll step her down to a regular room. She's young and strong and otherwise healthy and she should recover just fine he assures her.

 

“Rest,” he tells her before he leaves and even though she's been awake for such a short time, her eyes slide closed without a problem.

 

xxxxxx

 

The next time she wakes there is a police officer in her room.

 

He takes her statement although he assures her it is just a formality. The man with the terrifying blue eyes has already been arrested, is already in jail, and there's plenty of evidence to keep him there.

 

She trembles as they talk, her body betraying her, fear flooding her system despite the knowledge that the man who hurt her is in jail. She's never felt so weak. 

 

“You don't need to worry,” the officer assures her, “you’re safe here. There are two security guards stationed at your door.”

 

Emma's brow crinkles.  _ If the man is in jail, why are there security guards at her door?  _ “W-why?” she asks the question, worried for the answer. 

 

“Ms. Mills insisted on it,” he says it as if Emma should have any clue what he's talking about. 

 

A nurse shoos the police officer out after that, says it's time for Emma to have another dose of pain medication, and it isn't long after that before Emma is asleep again.

 

xxxxxx

 

She dreams of a brown haired boy standing in her doorway and of his mother’s unreadable face as Emma stormed passed her and out of their house. She dreams of fingers brushing against the back of her hand. She dreams of a police officer repeating ‘Ms. Mills insisted’ over and over again. 

 

She sleeps for an indeterminate amount of time. There is no way to measure the passing of time here. She doesn't even know if it's day or night.

 

When a nurse comes in to do yet another vital check, Emma asks hesitantly, “Can I ask you something?”

 

“Sure,” the nurse nods, fluffing Emma's pillows. 

 

“Was...was Regina Mills here before?” It sounds so ridiculous that Emma wants to take it back as soon as she asks it.

 

“Yes,” the nurse smiles, “until they kicked her out when they realized you two aren't actually related. ICU is for family.”

 

“Oh,” is all Emma can think to say. Somehow she feels even more confused now than she did before.  _ Regina pretended they were related? Regina was here? Why? _

 

xxxxxx

 

She manages to stay awake for several hours in a row. It feels like a big accomplishment. The doctor comes in to see her and tells her she's doing well. 

 

They move her out of the ICU not too long after that. The security guards from the ICU follow, stationing themselves outside the door to the new room she gets wheeled into. It’s another private one and it only occurs to her then that this hospital bill is going to be terrifyingly large.

 

She mentions it to nurse who is settling her into the room, suggests that maybe she should be relocated to a ward room instead of this private one. 

 

The nurse shakes her head, smiles knowingly, “There's no need. Your hospital bill has already been preemptively paid in full.”

 

_ Weird _ , Emma thinks, although she has an inkling of who is responsible, even if she still can't figure out  _ why.  _ The mystery of Regina Mills just keeps compounding.  __

 

xxxxxx

 

“You have a visitor,” a nurse who comes to check her vitals some time later informs her.

 

Emma is confused but the nurse doesn't explain just disappears, replaced moments later by someone else -  _ Regina Mills _ . 

 

Regina moves slowly over towards Emma's bed, her posture rigid as she studies her with serious eyes, “Hello.”

 

“Hi,” Emma studies Regina just as carefully, as if she’ll be able to sort out why she's here based on the unreadable expression on her face. She pulls herself up in the bed carefully, wincing at the sudden sharp pain in her abdomen. 

 

Regina’s eyes widen at Emma's grimace. “How are you feeling?” the question is hesitant, as if she can't decide if it's an acceptable question to ask. 

 

“I'm alive,” Emma shrugs. 

 

Regina’s lips purse, her forehead crinkling ever so slightly, like she's not sure if that's supposed to be a joke.

 

“Why don’t you sit,” Emma suggests because she's not sure what else to say.

 

Regina nods, drags a chair over, sits down, and continues to look wholly uncomfortable with this whole situation, which is kind of ridiculous, Emma thinks, since she's the one who showed up here unprompted for a reason Emma can't even begin to sort out.

 

“Why are you here?” Emma asks. It's a little too blunt but she's the one lying in a hospital bed, tired and in pain, and so she doesn't particularly care.

 

Regina stiffens, looks completely affronted, but then she runs a hand through her hair and says quietly, “I...wanted to make sure you were alright.”

 

“Why?” Emma asks again because it's an answer but it doesn't really answer anything. It doesn't explain why Regina lied to get into her ICU room, or why she insisted on security guards posted at Emma's door, or why she's paying Emma's medical bills. It doesn't explain why Regina is  _ here _ when Emma is positive that she could have found out Emma is going to survive by placing a phone call. 

 

Regina’s lips purse and for a minute Emma is certain she won't get an answer but then Regina says, “For Henry,” and so many different emotions flash through her eyes. 

 

“ _ Henry _ ,” Emma repeats his name uncertainly, still no less confused. 

 

“He would never forgive me if you didn't survive. Not when it was my lifestyle that put you in harm's way,” Regina clarifies.

 

Emma frowns not in confusion but in dismay. “You think that the scary knife wielding man is your fault?”

 

Regina says nothing, just lifts one shoulder in a half shrug, but the guilt on her face is plain to see and suddenly Emma's not sure if it's Henry who wouldn't forgive Regina or if it's Regina who wouldn't forgive herself.

 

“Don't be stupid. You're not responsible for some crazy dude with a knife,” Emma shakes her head. 

 

Regina quirks a disbelieving eyebrow at Emma, pursing her lips. “Aren’t I?” She’s guilty and self-deprecating and angry all at once, “If I’d just done what Henry wanted and located you for him, then the media wouldn’t have gotten involved. Your face wouldn’t have been splashed all over the place. My stalker wouldn’t have been anywhere near you. That’s what it boils down to, right? I’m a terrible mother. I just couldn’t understand why he wanted to know you.”    

 

Emma’s not sure what she’s supposed to say to that. Isn’t sure how much stock her opinion on Regina’s ability as a mother will really hold but she can’t stand the guilty hurt look on Regina’s face, wants nothing more than to wipe it away, even if she doesn’t really understand why. “Look,” she sighs, “Henry loves you, that much was clear to me. And like I told you that night, he was just curious. It doesn’t mean anything about you or your ability as a mother. As far as the rest of it...if you need me to absolve you, you’re absolved. What happened to me isn’t your fault.” 

 

Regina blinks slowly, as if she can’t understand why Emma is not just agreeing with her. “I...well…” Regina sighs too but she looks relieved, “thank you.”

 

Emma nods, offers Regina a smile, and closes her eyes. She’s tired, so very tired. “I still don't really understand why you came here. Or to the ICU. You could have, like, just called,” she says, her eyes still closed.  

 

Regina is silent and when she does speak her voice is quiet, hesitant almost, “They said you had no next of kin…I just thought...you shouldn’t be alone.”

 

It’s Emma’s turn to be speechless, her eyes blinking open slowly to regard Regina. She expects to find sympathy, or worse pity, instead what she finds is understanding. “Oh,” is what she finally says, still at a loss. 

 

One side of Regina’s mouth tugs upwards into a knowing half smile, “Well,” she says, “I’ll leave you so you can rest. That’s important to recovery as I understand it.”

 

“O-okay,” Emma nods, watching as Regina stands to leave, not sure why she’s disappointed that she’s going.

Regina pauses in the doorway, turns back to face Emma and asks hesitantly, “Would it be alright if I brought Henry to see you?”

 

Emma’s heart is suddenly hammering loudly in her chest. “Yes,” the response is barely more than a whisper.

 

xxxxxx

 

Emma is sitting up in her hospital bed, poking at the un-identifiable food on her lunch tray, the next day when Regina and Henry walk into her room.

 

Henry is carrying flowers in a vase, the arrangement so big it obscures his face. He leans around the flowers so that he can smile at Emma, “Hi.”

 

“Hi,” Emma smiles back, pushing her lunch tray out of the way and adjusting herself in the bed, biting her lip hard to keep from wincing at the pain that comes with any movement she makes.   

 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t realize you would still be having lunch, we would have come later,” Regina apologizes as she takes the flowers from Henry and sets them on one of Emma’s side tables, rotating them until she is satisfied with their position.

 

Emma just shrugs, “You can hardly call this mystery meal lunch. It certainly isn’t a cheeseburger.”

 

Regina rolls her eyes and rotates the flowers once more.

 

Henry practically tiptoes over to Emma’s bedside, stopping a few feet away, suddenly looking nervous, hesitant, nothing like the bold boy who’d barged into her apartment and threatened to say she’d kidnapped him if she called the police.

 

“Hey kid,” Emma smiles at him again, trying to look as reassuring as possible, “thanks for the flowers.”

 

He smiles back but the smile doesn't quite reach his eyes, “Mom helped pick them out. But it was my idea.”

“They’re really nice and they do wonders for the drab hospital room vibe going on in here,” she assures him.

 

He doesn't laugh at her joke but he does take a couple of more steps forward. He’s touching distance away from her now and he stops again, eyeing her up and down and up and down. “You’re really okay?” he asks finally, his voice small. 

 

She glances over at Regina, who is watching this interaction with serious eyes, and then back at Henry, “Yeah kid, I’m okay.”

 

She expects him to smile, instead his lower lip trembles and suddenly he’s fighting back tears and her eyes widen in horror. She reaches her hand out, her fingers brushing against his forearm, wrapping around it, squeezing lightly, “Hey, hey, hey,” she murmurs, “what’s wrong? I really am okay. I promise.” 

 

His lower lip trembles harder, as he fights to keep the tears from spilling down his cheeks. “I’m sorry,” his words are filled with so much sorrow, “I’m so sorry that you got hurt, Emma. It’s my fault.”

 

_ Like son, like mother _ , Emma thinks, and she’s shaking her head at him rapidly, “No, Henry. No. This isn’t your fault. Please don’t think that.”

 

Regina moves over to Henry swiftly, wrapping her arm around his shoulders and tugging him closer to her. He folds into her like he was made to fit there, sagging against her as she presses a kiss to the top of his head. “I thought we talked about this Henry,” she soothes, “the only person to blame is the person who was arrested.”

 

Henry looks so conflicted, like he wants to protest but also like he so desperately wants to believe her, to believe  _ them _ . He looks between them - up to his mother whose arm is still around his shoulder and over to Emma whose fingers are still wrapped loosely around his forearm. “Really?” he asks quietly.

 

“Really,” Emma assures.

 

Henry smiles through watery eyes.    

 

xxxxxx

 

Henry and Regina come back the next day. 

 

Emma is walking down the hallway, one hand on her IV pole, the other on the handrail that lines the hallway. She's made it exactly fourteen steps, she knows because she's counting. Sweat is already beading against her forehead, she's out of breath, and the pain in her abdomen seems to reverberate with every step. There's a nurse beside her, encouraging her, and one of the security is trailing just behind her. 

 

She stops when she sees Regina and Henry approaching from the nurses station. She wasn't expecting them. Is so surprised by their appearance that her mouth gapes open. She'd been sure yesterday's visit had been about Regina appeasing Henry. Had been sure that the boy had wanted to see her, so Regina had indulged him  _ once _ . Emma hadn't expected to ever see them again. “Hi,” she says as they get closer, finally managing to get ahold of her surprise.

 

“Hi,” Henry chirps, looking so much happier than yesterday. “We brought cheeseburgers,” he grins at her, “And fries.”

 

Regina holds up a non-descript brown paper bag but the grease seeping out the bottom makes it clear that Henry isn't lying. “Also milkshakes,” she adds to Henry’s description, holding up the tray with the beverages that's in her other hand. She gives Emma a tentative smile, “I hope that it's okay that we came to visit again,” she looks suddenly uncertain, like maybe it's only just occurred to her that this is overstepping.

 

Emma shrugs, “Sure.” She spins around, intent on heading back to her room and nearly bumps into the security guard. She winces at the pain that comes with the abrupt halt and then glances over her shoulder at Regina, grumbling, “Are these security guards really necessary?”

 

If Regina is surprised that Emma knows that the security guards are her doing, her face doesn't show it. “Yes,” she says firmly, her expression serious, giving nothing away.

 

It's Henry who supplies helpfully, “They're here to keep the paparazzi away,” as if that should have been obvious to Emma. 

 

Emma eyes widen, her horror at this revelation apparent.

 

“ _ Henry _ ,” Regina admonishes with a sigh. “Don't worry,” she assures Emma, “They won't come near you.”

 

“O-okay,” Emma swallows thickly and turns her attention to getting back to her room. She's trembling from the effort by the time the nurse is helping her back into the hospital bed and she's so embarrassed by the patheticness of it all that she avoids Henry and Regina eyes.

 

Regina seems to sense her discomfort and breaks the silence with a slightly too cheery, “Would you rather have a chocolate, vanilla, or strawberry milkshake? Or do you not want one?”

 

Emma blinks slowly over at her, “Umm...well...whichever you and Henry don't want.”

 

“Nonsense,” Regina shakes her head, “We brought this meal for you. Please pick whichever you prefer.”

 

“Umm…” Emma rubs the back of her neck, looks between Regina and Henry, who mouths ‘chocolate’ at her, and then decides, “Strawberry.”

 

Regina bustles about then, filled with purpose as she hands Emma the strawberry shake and gives Henry the chocolate one, and then starts pulling items from the bag. She sets a cheeseburger and a container of fries on Emma's food tray, adjusting it so that it's directly in front of her. She then hands over another cheeseburger and fry container to Henry, who settles himself into a chair beside Emma’s bed and begins happily munching on his food. 

 

The last thing Regina pulls from the bag is a salad container and Emma can’t help but laugh. When Regina’s eyes narrow in her direction, Emma just grins and takes a large gulp of her milkshake. “Are you at least going to have the milkshake?” Emma motions with her head to the vanilla milkshake still in the cardboard tray.

 

Regina lifts one shoulder, “ _ Maybe _ .”

 

Maybe turns out to be yes.

 

xxxxxx

 

Henry chatters endlessly the entire time they eat and Emma loves every minute of it. Now that she isn't asleep ninety five percent of the day, she's painfully aware of how boring being in a hospital is. Time passes so slowly here. 

 

Emma only manages a quarter of her meal, which is the clear sign that she is still nowhere near well. If that weren't enough proof, the fact that it takes her just as long to eat the quarter as it does for Henry to devour  _ all _ of his food is.

 

Neither Henry nor Regina say anything about Emma's unfinished meal, Regina just packs everything up for disposal while Henry produces a deck of cards from his pocket.

 

“Want to play crazy eights?” He asks eagerly and when she nods, he settles himself cross legged on the end of her bed.

 

xxxxx 

 

They're half way through their second game when Henry says casually, “This is fun but xbox is better. You'll play it with me when you're staying with us, right?”

 

Emma's brow crinkles in complete confusion.  _ When she's staying with them? _

 

“ _ Henry _ ,” Regina hisses, “I haven't spoken with Miss Swan about that yet.”

 

“It’s  _ Emma _ ,” Emma corrects Regina even as her brow crinkles further, “Haven't spoken to me about  _ what _ ?”

 

Regina looks apologetic now, she opens and closes her mouth once, twice, a third time, clearly floundering. Finally she sighs softly, “I just thought...maybe it would be a good idea if you came and stayed with Henry and I once you are discharged. Just until you've recovered.”

 

Emma’s brow doesn't uncrinkle, she just stares at Regina flabbergasted. This must be about the guilt - Regina’s and maybe Henry’s. Regina is still atoning, Emma is certain. And, yet, Emma's heart does a strange flip, beats just a little quicker. She can't accept, of course she can't accept. Can't rely on anyone but herself. “I…” she's shaking her head.

 

“How about,” Regina cuts in, “You just think about it for a few days and we can talk about it later when you're closer to being discharged.”

 

xxxxxx

 

Regina and Henry visit every single day. They bring something new with them each time - a movie that they watch together, grilled cheese, warm flannel pajamas that are a million times better than the hospital gown Emma had been wearing up to that point. 

 

Emma starts to get better. 

 

She sits in a chair to play a board game with Henry and Regina instead of in her hospital bed. 

 

She manages to make it from her room to the nurses station and back without breaking into a cold sweat. 

 

The nurses trust her to stand on her own long enough to have a shower - it's short and rushed and she can't quite figure out how to wash her hair because she still can't raise her hands above her shoulders without sharp debilitating pain in her abdomen but she feels amazing afterwards, refreshed and alive for the first time since she woke here. 

 

They take out her IV and switch her to oral pain killers and the doctor with the red hair and the kind eyes tells her a few more days and she can go home. 

 

_ Home _ . A place that she doesn't have. Has never had. And now she doesn't even have an apartment to go back to. She's so used to getting by on her own, has spent her life learning over and over and over again that relying on anyone but herself only ends in her getting hurt. And, yet, she can't quite figure out how to make this work. Isn't sure how to take care of herself properly this time. 

 

“Okay,” she says when Regina and Henry visit later that day.

 

“Okay?” Regina quirks an eyebrow.

 

“I...umm…” Emma looks down at her lap, “I’ll stay with you and Henry for a few weeks after I'm discharged….umm...if that's still okay.”

 

Regina’s eyes widen in surprise but she nods her head immediately, “Yes, of course. We would love to have you come stay with us.”

 

“This is going to be awesome,” Henry grins.

 

Emma isn't sure  _ awesome  _ is the right word but she smiles back at Henry and over at Regina, tentative and uncertain.

 

xxxxxx

 

As promised by her surgeon, Emma is discharged two days later.

 

A nurse pushes her in a wheelchair down to the entrance of the hospital, the security guards flanking either side of the chair, Henry and Regina walking just in front of them.

 

There’s a town car waiting and Emma transfers herself carefully from the wheelchair into the vehicle, Henry sliding into the middle and Regina sliding in beside him. Emma doesn’t understand why no one has taken the front seat until a security guard, not one of the ones who’d been posted to her hospital room but a man she recognizes from the night she’d brought Henry home, opens the passenger door and climbs in.  _ Oh right _ , Emma thinks. It’s become increasingly easy to forget that Regina is a celebrity.

 

Henry chats happily as they drive towards the tiny Maine town but Emma only half listens, her head resting against the window. Every bump the car goes over sends a shot of pain through her abdomen and by the time they pass the ‘Welcome to Storybrooke’ sign, she can no longer contain a wince.

 

Regina appraises her with eyes tinged with worry. Emma winces again as the car drives over a particularly harsh bump and Regina demands, “Slow down,” of the driver, who obeys instantly. 

 

Emma breathes a sigh of relief when they’re finally pulling into the driveway of the large white house.

 

Regina is out of the car quickly and rushing around to Emma’s side of the vehicle, holding the door open and helping her out.

 

“I can do it myself,” Emma grumbles, embarrassed. 

 

“Don’t be stupid,” Regina shakes her head incredulously at Emma, wrapping an arm around her carefully and helping her into the house, Henry trailing behind them.  

 

“Where are your pills?” Regina demands once she’s got Emma seated on the couch in the living room.

 

“I’m fine,” Emma grits out, her face pale from the pain.

 

“Seriously?” Regina quirks an eyebrow at her.

 

Emma sighs, not sure why she’s resisting, really. Embarrassment mostly. She’s been here one minute and she’s already relying on Regina and it makes her uncomfortable. “In the bag from the hospital,” Emma grumbles, avoiding Regina’s gaze. She’d rather get them herself, rather pretend she doesn’t need them, rather pretend that she doesn’t need help, but she sits and lets Regina retrieve them, knowing the other woman won’t let this go any other way. 

 

Regina gets the pills and a glass of water for Emma and then she asks if Emma wants to go lie down upstairs. Emma shakes her head and instead Henry brings a movie in and he curls up beside her on the couch. Emma is asleep within the first thirty minutes, the drive from the hospital having worn her out.  

 

xxxxxx

 

The movie is over and Henry has disappeared when Emma wakes from her nap to the most wonderful smell. She stretches slowly, carefully, and pushes herself up off of the couch to go investigate. 

 

She finds Regina in the kitchen, cutting up vegetables and tossing them into a salad bowl. 

 

“You cook?” she can’t help the surprise in her voice as she walks closer and leans against the island, watching Regina dice vegetables with clear skill. 

 

Regina raises an eyebrow at Emma, “Yes, I cook.  _ What _ ? You thought that I just have staff who cater to Henry and I?”

 

“Well….yes,” Emma grins sheepishly and laughs at the expression on Regina’s face.

 

Regina shakes her head, smirking, “Sorry to disappoint you.”

 

Emma reaches forward and snags a piece of the cucumber that Regina is cutting up, pops it into her mouth, and says nothing, just grins. 

 

There is nothing disappointing about the lasagna they have for dinner. It’s the best food Emma’s had in a long time. She could get used to eating like this.  

 

xxxxxx

 

The quickly fall into a routine. Like a strange little family of three. 

 

Regina reminds Emma to take her pain medication, helps her wash her hair in the laundry room sink, brings her extra blankets or snacks when she’s lying on the couch, and appears instantly any time Emma wakes screaming from a nightmare of a man with terrifying blue eyes, turning on the lights and sitting with Emma until her breathing evens back out and she drifts back to sleep. 

 

Henry and Emma play xbox when he gets home from school, the three of them have dinner together, Henry does his homework at the kitchen table while Regina and Emma clean up, they play cards or watch a movie, and then, when Henry’s been sent off to bed, Emma and Regina stay up and talk.

 

At first it's about Henry. Regina drags out album after album after album of pictures. Baby pictures, and toddler pictures, and first day of school pictures. Every moment of Henry’s childhood captured and documented. They fill a void in Emma's heart. There's sadness at what she's missed out on but there's happiness too, so much of it, because  _ this _ is all she ever wanted for him. Someone to love him unconditionally, someone to take care of him like he is the most important person in the world, someone to keep him safe, and that's exactly what he's gotten. 

 

Slowly their talks shift from Henry and become about them.

 

Emma learns about Regina being forced into the entertainment business by her mother. Learns of a childhood spent on Hollywood sets, begging to be allowed to quit. Learns of a stable hand named Daniel who'd promised Regina the world. Learns of plans to run, far away from Hollywood, live on a farm somewhere and raise a family. Learns of an accident that took Daniel’s life before any of those plans could be set into motion. Learns of a baby adopted to fill a void, who'd done that and so much more. 

 

Regina learns about a childhood of never being  _ enough _ . Of being unloved and often mistreated and of being given back over and over and over again. Learns of a twice stolen volkswagen beetle and a boy who'd paid attention to Emma for a short time, made her think they were in love. Learns of the boy’s betrayal and a trip to jail and what it was like to feel the first flutterings of life under her fingertips on a cold hard jail cell floor.

 

xxxxxx

 

It's two months to the day that Henry showed up at her front door when Emma has her final appointment with the surgeon who saved her life. She brings Regina with her to the appointment, asks her to come into the exam room with her. 

 

The surgeon declares Emma healed, says he doesn't need to see her again.

 

They’re still in the exam room, alone now, and Emma says, “I guess it's time for me to figure out where I'm going to live.” It's hesitant, tentative. 

 

Regina’s lips purse and she tilts her head, studies Emma carefully. “What if...” she finally says, and it's just as hesitant, just as tentative, the air in the room suddenly charged with something Emma can’t quite identify, “...what if, you just stayed with us?” 

 

Emma isn’t quite sure she’s heard properly.  _ Regina wants her to stay? _ It seems too unreal to be true. She searches Regina eyes for some kind of answer. The energy in the room is still charged, heavy with unspoken emotion, and Emma’s tongue darts out to moisten her lips. She swallows thickly, her eyes dipping to look at Regina’s lips and then back up to her eyes and then back down to her lips again.  _ Regina wants her to stay _ , she repeats it in her head and her heart hammers loudly in her chest. 

Emma can’t contain her emotions any longer. She takes two steps forwards, leans in and presses her lips slowly to Regina’s. 

 

Regina leans in to the contact with a soft moan, and Emma is immediately reaching up to tangle a hand in the hair at the base of Regina’s neck, pulling her closer, kissing her more firmly, any hesitance gone as Regina responds, a hand reaching up to rest on Emma’s shoulder, fingers brushing gently against her neck.  

 

They're both breathless when they pull back.

 

“Am I to take it that that’s a yes?” Regina quirks an eyebrow, smiles coyly at Emma..

  
Emma smiles too, slow and happy. “Yes,” she says it like it's a promise, like it's a vow, and, like any good vow, she seals it with another kiss.


End file.
